


Daybreak

by Gaffsie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: AU, Detectives, Episode: s05e19 Vegas, M/M, Vegas AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 17:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaffsie/pseuds/Gaffsie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's life in in a quiet little Nevada town is turned upside down when the local hermit is brutally murdered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daybreak

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Crime Fighters](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/23241) by sexycazzy. 



Deputy Lorne got up from his crouch in front of the pristine door. ”Looks like a clean job, boss.”

John nodded. It certainly explained why the maid hadn't suspected that anything was wrong when she arrived in the morning. Her first – and only – sign that something was amiss was when she'd found the house's owner, a Mr Lambert, lying dead in a pool of his own blood. Four hours later, she was still in the tender care of Doctor Winston and John was under strict orders not to bother her.

Not that John was that eager to talk with her. The maid only came in on Wednesday mornings, and from what Constable Cadman had gotten out of her before the good doctor arrived, she hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary. Not counting the corpse, obviously. 

No, John had a bad feeling that this wasn't the kind of crime his little Sheriff department was equipped to deal with. He'd seen a couple of homicides in the years since he got his commission here, but, though tragic, they were usually of a predictable nature; drunken rows gone too far, abusive husbands giving their wives one final, lethal, blow. 

There'd been none of this locked-room mystery bullshit. 

And the complete absence of any sign of forcing of locks, or struggle with the victim still wasn't what worried him most, even if Mr Lambert was infamous for his reclusiveness and paranoia. It was the blood. 

Getting past Lambert's security system would take an absolute pro, so why was the murder such an amateur job? It all pointed to someone being convinced that they'd never get caught, and privately, John suspected they were right to be confident.

He would still perform the investigation to the best of his abilities, and his faith in both Lorne and Cadman was absolute, but he had a feeling that he'd have to place a call to the suits before the week was over.

“Go around the back, check if Cadman's found anything,” he told Lorne, and made his way into the house. The coroner had been on the scene for an hour, and he hoped that even someone as slow-going as Dr Cole should be able to give him some info at this point. 

When he entered the sparsely decorated living room, Dr Cole was busy examining the victim's nails. His grey hair was standing on end in small excited tufts, and his glasses were askew. The man looked every inch the mad genius, but appearances could be deceiving. Cole was certainly _competent_ , but he was just that; a competent and mild-mannered old man living out his last years before retirement in a sleepy little hamlet.

John raised an eyebrow. “Any signs of struggle?”

Dr Cole sighed. “Not so, I'm afraid. I'm just being methodical.”

John scratched his chin, considering. “Well, anything else you can tell me?”

“Death by blunt force trauma, but you could probably see that for yourself.”

Yeah, the bashed in skull was kind of hard to miss, John thought, but he nodded encouragingly to Cole.

“And that's it really. He's been dead for more than 24 hours, and he must either have known his killer or not noticed him until it was too late, because there is nothing to suggest that he put up a fight.”

“Not much to go on,” John said.

Cole took off his glasses and absently polished them on his shirt sleeve. Having successfully smeared dirt all over the lenses, he put his glasses back on. “I will tell you one thing,” he said. “This was a very sloppy murder.” 

He looked disapprovingly at the dead body on the floor. “I really don't understand why someone would go to such trouble to break into this veritable Fort Knox of a house without a trace, only to go about murdering its inhabitant like a _savage_ and then not even steal anything.

John's ears pricked up. “Wait, are you saying this was a crime done in anger?” 

“It's worse,” Cole said, sounding mournful, “it was done by someone who didn't care at all.”

“I see what you mean,” John said. It fit with his perception of the crime, and didn't make him any more confident in his abilities to solve it. Because who went through all the trouble of breaking into a house with a practically impregnable security system, only to haphazardly beat a loner to death?

Still, sometimes a little luck was enough to bring an investigation forward. With that in mind, John went out to the porch to see if Cadman and Lorne had found anything.

“No luck, boss!” Cadman called out at his approach. She was a rookie, but had the makings of a good cop. She was a bit of a loose cannon, but under Lorne's steady tutelage she was making great progress. John figured she'd stay another two year, tops, before she was off to do bigger and better things. He could see her in Vegas, maybe. He hadn't been able to hack it there, but she wasn't a disgraced former Air Force pilot quietly drinking herself to death, like he'd been. Bumfuck, Nevada, was not for her, but John was man enough to admit that being exiled to this tiny little sheriff department had probably saved his life.

~*~

Wednesday ended without a single new lead. Cadman had gone around the neighbourhood knocking on people's doors and looking for witnesses, John had finally been allowed to talk to the maid, who tearfully said she knew nothing, and Lorne had been called out to settle a dispute between two neighbouring farmers. 

Thursday was more of the same. John was given the coroner's report by Dr Cole, but it contained nothing useful, except for the curious mention that Mr Lambert exhibited signs of having been exposed to unusually large amounts of radiation during his lifetime. It reminded John that no one seemed to know what Lambert had been doing before he rolled into town ten years ago. 

It had been before John's time, but no one else seemed to know either. Lambert had pretty much kept to himself from the start. As far as official records went, it looked like Lambert had never worked a day in his life. 

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Lorne mumbled. He was reading over John's shoulder again. 

“That's a very annoying habit, you know,” John grumbled. 

“It's very useful though,” Lorne said good-naturedly. “So, what do we think of Lambert? Maybe it's his parents' money.”

John snorted. “Maybe he's born with it, maybe it's _bullshit_. With daddy's money, you don't end up in a place like this.”

“You're thinking cover-up.” 

“So are you,” John said.

Lorne shrugged. “It seems like the obvious answer.”

“Still doesn't help us going forward though.” John stared intensely at the computer screen, willing it to give up its secrets. “You know what this department needs? A hacker.”

Lorne slapped his shoulder. “My niece's pretty good with computers. You should see her World of Warcraft score!”

John smiled up at him. “I'll keep that in mind,” he said. “In the meantime, it looks like we might have to call in the big boys.”

“My poor masculine pride,” Lorne said.

“I think we'll live.”

~*~

“Dr McKay.”

Rodney looked up from his mountain of paperwork. Here he was, unequivocally the greatest mind of the SGC, and he _still_ had to do paperwork. Where was his sexy blonde secretary? He'd taken it up with General Landry on their last meeting, but the General had just … looked at him, like a big displeased owl. A week later he'd been sent to a sexual harassment seminar. It was all just politics as far as Rodney was concerned, and as one of the SGC's most important resources, he really ought to be above following these stupid and inefficient societal norms.

Richard Woolsey was standing in his doorway, looking as much as a stuffy bureaucrat as was humanly possible. 

“Can I help you?” Rodney said, and demonstratively jabbed form C3306 (allotment for civilian subcontractors) with his pen.

Woolsey frowned at him. “There's been another murder. All signs point to the Trust being behind it.”

“I thought that was NID business,” Rodney said, curious. It wasn't like Woolsey to waste his time with inanities like this. 

“As you know, they are quite tied up with a number of similar investigations at the moment, and since the victim used to work under your leadership, it was decided that you would make an acceptable substitute.”

Rodney snorted disdainfully. “I'm a genius, but I'm not tangling with the Trust on my own. They might be greedy boneheads, but they're _violent_ greedy boneheads.”

“Quite right,” Woolsey said. “Which is why Teyla Emmagan and Ronon Dex will accompany you.”

“Seriously? Two aliens who has what, one month of earth experience between them? You can just tell your bosses that I want better than that.

“Ms Emmagan and Mr Dex will of course be fully briefed,” Woolsey interjected smoothly. “And surely a man of your considerable intellect can handle the local sheriff department of a small podunk town.”

“Obviously.” Rodney rolled his eyes. “Buford T. Justice doesn't stand a chance.” 

“Excellent,” Woolsey said. “You will find all information you need on your computer.”

“Dex and Emmagan better be perfectly briefed, Woolsey! I don't want them fucking up this assignment for me.”

Woolsey smiled thinly at him. “I wouldn't worry about that, Dr McKay.”

When he was gone, Rodney turned on his laptop. Sure enough, there was a new folder for him on his Intranet account. He read through the material quickly enough. He had vague memories of Dr Lambert. Pretty useless, all things considered, but he'd spent most of his time overseeing the weather station on P3M-736, where he couldn't get in the way of the _real_ scientists. They'd sent him home with a nice pension in 2003, and that was that. 

He threw off an email to Emmagan and Dex while he was working. Woolsey could usually be trusted, but Rodney wanted to be sure that his two henchmen knew what they would be dealing with. Not that he really expected any trouble. In his experience, 'local police' meant dumb as a box of rocks, and from what the file had to say about the Sheriff department, it was true in this case as well. One San Francisco flower child who probably ended up in Carlin, Nevada while high on Peyote, one overzealous recruit sent there to cool her heels, and one exiled alcoholic Las Vegas fuck-up. Piece of cake. 

But still, he hadn't had much experience working with Emmagan and Dex. From what he remembered the expedition had run into the two of them on some backwater planet called Athos. Emmagan was the leader of her people, and Dex was her body-guard. When she'd decided to move to Atlantis as a liaison, Dex had gone with her. 

It was all very noble, and Rodney had never got along well with noble people. They tended to die a lot.

One other thing could be said about Emmagan, she was very quick to answer her email correspondence. Not ten minutes after Rodney had emailed her, there was a reply from her accepting his proposed meeting on her and Dex's behalf.

~*~

“The feds are coming,” Cadman said in a stage whisper. She hurried past John and Lorne to take her place at her desk in the back. She looked excited. This was probably the most action she'd seen since she'd gotten here.

“Shoot, and here I haven't finished painting their welcome banner yet,” Lorne said.

Then they heard approaching steps, and they all sheepishly pretended that they hadn't been waiting for this all morning, Cadman by energetically clacking on the keys of her ancient desktop, Lorne by suddenly becoming very interested in the crime scene photos on his desk, and John by walking over to the water cooler and studiously pouring himself a glass of water.

He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it wasn't the trio who walked into the office. The tall man with dreadlocks had to be special force, and the woman in her smart pant suit could certainly be a fed, but John would eat his own hat if the pale middle-aged man with the receding hairline and thunderous scowl was the member of any government agency. For one thing, he looked decidedly uncomfortable carrying a weapon, and even though John had met some real assholes who worked for the FBI, they tended to carry themselves very differently. This guy; this guy was a bureaucrat through and through. 

He looked forward to comparing notes with Lorne and Cadman once they were alone.

“Sheriff?” The pale man reached out for a handshake. 

John took his hand and noted that his handshake was almost punishingly hard. He sent a fleeting thought to Patrick Sheppard, who would not have approved of that kind of overdone show of strength. Handshakes were supposed to inspire confidence, not initiate pissing contests.

“I'm Rodney McKay, with the FBI.” He gestured to his both companions. “And these are agents Emmagan and Dex.”

“John Sheppard.” John nodded in Lorne and Cadman's direction. “My deputy, Evan Lorne, and Constable Cadman.

“I hope you had a good flight.” John said. 

“Hah, not likely,” McKay said. “At least it was on time.”

“This is a lovely town,” Agent Emmagan said, smoothly cutting in and taking over socializing duties from her boss.

“When people's not getting murdered in it, it's not bad,” John said pleasantly. 

“Yeah?” Agent Dex said. “What do you do for fun around here?”

John was tempted to say 'cow-tipping', which was his go-to answer when someone asked him that question, but Dex hadn't sounded snide. It was almost like if he was genuinely interested in what kind of amusements could be found in Carlin.

“There are some great hiking trails around here,” he said instead. 

“Yeah?” Dex said. Now he definitely sounded interested.

To his own surprise, John heard himself saying, “If you've got time over, I can show you sometime.” 

Agent Dex smiled, transforming his face from handsome yet severe to open and drop-dead gorgeous. John could practically feel his heart beat an extra beat in his chest.

“Yeah,” he said, weakly. “I usually go alone, but some company would be great.”

“Awesome.” He clapped John on the shoulder. It kind of hurt, but it was obviously kindly meant. 

“Yes, well, if the tea party is _quite_ over, we have work to do,” McKay piped up. He had his arms crossed and was radiating disapproval. “The sooner we have this over with, the sooner we're back in... Washington.”

McKay's pause struck John as yet something else to be suspicious about. There would obviously be no point in calling his superiors, because he'd gotten the names in advance, and John had no doubt all the paperwork would pan out. If these guys weren't feds, they wouldn't be exposed that easily.

“Sure, McKay,” he said agreeably. “If you want to start with the body, its in the morgue.” 

McKay almost visually recoiled. “That would be a waste of time. The coroner's report looked fairly comprehensive to me. Blunt force trauma, possibly by way of a metal pipe, which the perp then brought with him -”

_Perp?_ John thought. He schooled his face so his smirk wouldn't show.

“- and no prints or handy traces of DNA left anywhere. Just a dead body and a lot of blood.”

“Crime scene then?”

“Yes.” McKay pointed at him, looking more enthusiastic than he had since he walked through the door.

Lorne interrupted. “You sure you guys don't want lunch first? I'm about to go pick up some take-out if you're interested.”

“After a quick glance at Emmagan, who gave a small nod, McKay accepted. “That would be acceptable. They didn't have any food on our flight, and we just stopped for coffee on our drive over here.”

“Sure thing,” Lorne said, and smiled that ingratiating smile of his that made him a hit with the local ladies. John had tried, unsuccesfully, to copy it, but he only came across as smarmy when he did it. Lorne claimed it was due to clean living.

McKay seemed immune though.

Lorne shrugged on his jacket. “Any allergies I should know about?”

He was met with a chorus of “no's” from their guests.

“If you don't mind, I will accompany you, Deputy Lorne. It will be a lot to carry for one man.” Agent Emmagan smiled graciously at Lorne, who went a little pink.

John didn't really blame him. Agent Emmagan was a very attractive woman. 

“That's nice of you,” Lorne said. “Don't think any of these ingrates have ever offered to help before.” 

“Hey now,” Cadman said, throwing a scrunched up piece of paper at him. “It's not like you help me when it's my turn to get food for us.” 

“That's because you're my underling,” Lorne said. “Your job is to do my bidding.”

Cadman grinned, unrepentant.

“And whose job is it to do my bidding?” John asked plaintively. Fittingly, it fell on deaf ears, although he did notice that it teased another grin out of Agent Dex.

While they waited for Lorne and Emmagan's return with the food, John passed the time by going through crime scene photos with McKay and Dex. It was hard to guess what Dex was thinking, but McKay wasn't shy to express his interest in the security system.

“Your report indicated that it had remained untampered with, but, no offence, what you don't know about computerized security systems could probably fill a ware-house. I will need to take a look myself.” 

“McKay,” Ronon said.

“Hmm? Oh, right, _sorry_. Don't take it personally. I'm smarter than practically everyone else.”

So he was their tech guy? Still didn't explain why he was in charge of the operation, but it was a start, John thought. It also didn't explain the accent.

They were interrupted by Lorne and Emmagan, who, judging by the smell, had gotten them some of Gertie's world famous burgers. 

McKay and Dex fell upon the food like rabid wolves. Even Cadman looked a bit taken aback, and she could eat with the best of them. Emmagan simply looked resigned.

When she saw John looking at her, she said in an aside, “I have tried teaching Ronon table manners, but I'm afraid it is a lost cause.”

John grinned at her. “And McKay?”

She inclined her head in a mock bow. “I have not yet dared attempt it.”

That startled a real laugh out of John. 

He was still smiling when Cadman thrust a hamburger into his hands.

After lunch, Lorne and Cadman went out patrolling, so John got to take their guests to Lambert's place of residence. He'd noticed that Lorne looked a little longingly at Agent Emmagan as he left, but Lorne had a job to do, and John was the boss. It wasn't more than right that the feds got preferential treatment. 

If that also gave John an excuse to spend more time with Agent Dex, then that was no one's business but his own. 

Of course, once at the house, both Agent Emmagan and Agent Dex disappeared upstairs, and John ended up spending time with McKay instead. 

He'd almost expected to McKay to bust out some Sherlock Holmes voodoo on the security system interface, but once he'd connected his own laptop to it and poked around four about half an hour, he had to admit that John had been right. No one had touched it.

“It's a real locked room mystery,” John said, feeling collegial all of a sudden. 

McKay snorted. “That's one way of putting it.” 

“We could really have used Jessica Fletcher today,” John said.

McKay smiled. “Why does it not surprise me that your exposure to sleuths comes through American television, hmm?”

“Yeah, I'm sure your Canadian shows were much more _sublime_.”

“I can assure you, they were not,” McKay said drily, and then he froze. “Umm. I mean, from what I've heard about Canadian TV, not that I have watched much of it, not that it would be strange if I had because I could have vacationed there when I was younger, which I _did_ because I'm American. Haha.”

John smirked, feeling pleased with himself. “Game's up, McKay, you're Canadian, admit it.”

“No I'm not.” McKay's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets, he was so freaked out.

John leaned closer to him. “You are,” he said. “But that's okay.”

“It is?” McKay practically squeaked.

“I'm pretty sure you're still government, so yes.” He leaned back again. “But don't think I won't be keeping my eyes on you.”

“What gave me away?” McKay asked. 

“Your 'sorry' sounds very Canadian.” John shrugged.

“That's all it took?” He radiated scepticism. 

“I'm a detective, so yes.” John said.

“That's not an answer,” McKay said. He was looking annoyed again, so John figured he was probably over the chock. 

“And you're not an FBI agent, so there.” 

“You are so childish.”

John smothered a grin. “Am not.” 

McKay rolled his eyes heavenward. “I give up.” 

He coughed, embarrassed. “Anyway, since my cover is blown anyway, I might as well tell you this; my organization knows who murdered Dr Lambert.”

“ _Doctor_ Lambert?”

“Astrophysicist, to be exact,” McKay said. “Not that he was particularly good at it. The point is that you can pretty much kiss this investigation goodbye, because your department lacks both the resources and the security level you'd need to do much good.”

_That just figured_ , John thought. “You know I won't leave it at that.” John said. Just because he and McKay were apparently buddies now didn't mean he'd take everything he said at face value.

“Of course you won't,” McKay admitted. “In spite of my expectations, you're not an idiot. You can expect an official letter from my supervisor in a day or so. I'm just here to secure any traces of his old career Dr Lambert might have kept around.”

That made John suspicious. He squinted at McKay. “Nothing dangerous, right?”

McKay smiled. “I don't think he left any cleaved atoms around, no.” 

“Okay. Not dangerous, but valuable enough to get killed over.” 

“McKay looked almost fondly at him. “You figured that out, eh?”

'Eh', John thought, and smiled to himself.

“Doesn't take a Canadian genius,” he said. “Your colleagues are upstairs, looking for signs of what the murderers were after.”

“Looks like they found it,” McKay murmured. 

John turned around, and saw Dex and Emmagan walking down the stairs. Emmagan was looking pleased with herself, and Dex was giving McKay the thumbs up.

“I guess this means the murderer had to leave empty handed. “

“Indeed he did,” Emmagan said. She seemed to take John apparently being privy to the murder motive in stride. 

“I also guess you won't tell me what he was after.”

“Right again, Sheriff Sheppard,” Emmagan said. She smiled at him.

“I did not realize Rodney had decided to share the specifics of this case with you.” She said, sending a teasing glance in McKay's direction.

McKay refused to wilt under her and Dex's apparent amusement. “Yes,” he quickly said, “it seemed more practical in the long run than all this subterfuge.”

“Too bad we didn't get to work with Buford T. Justice like you wanted,” Dex said, affecting an innocent tone remarkably well for a 6.4 giant.

McKay honest to god _sputtered_ , and at that moment John genuinely couldn't remember when he'd last been this entertained.

“I'm sorry to disappoint,” John said with a smirk. “I only chase after runaway brides on Tuesdays.” 

McKay looked resigned. “You would be a _Smokey and the Bandit _fan.”__

__“Nothing wrong with a little Burt Reynolds,” John said mildly._ _

__“You do realize the physics in that movie are completely and utterly wrong, right? There is no way that car would have survived half of the jumps it did, not to mention the semi.”_ _

__“You sure seems to know a lot about that movie.”_ _

__“Well. I. Sally Field was very attractive, okay?”_ _

__McKay looked a little red._ _

__“Are we done with the 'picking on Rodney' part of the day now? Or are you waiting for me to admit to owning a _Charlie's Angels_ poster too?”_ _

__“TMI, McKay,” John said, just for the pleasure of watching McKay splutter again._ _

__“Anyway, are we done here? Or do you want to poke around some more?”_ _

__“We have found what we came for,” Emmagan said._ _

__Rodney waved off the question like an irritating bug. “No point of entry, which means that my hypothesis was right. We can go back to that sad little shack you call a police station”_ _

__“I think they call it a Sheriff Department,” Ronon offered._ _

__~*~_ _

__Once they were back at the office, John hung back with Emmagan and Dex while McKay made his phone call. He didn't really know how, but before he knew it, he'd issued a dinner invitation to the three of them._ _

__“We'd be delighted, Sheriff Sheppard.” Agent Emmagan said, and he told them to call him John, which led to Emmagan and Dex becoming Teyla and Ronon. It all led John to the startling realization that he was making friends._ _

__“Woolsey told us to stay put until tomorrow evening,” McKay told them when he came back. “He thinks there might be an attempt to break into the house again, so he wants us to be his guard dogs while he organizes an intervention on his end.”_ _

__“Is that likely?” John asked._ _

__“No, Woolsey's just being paranoid. I don't expect anything much more exciting than the occasional tumbleweed sighting to happen while we're here. “_ _

__“If you're really lucky, a car might even pass by,” John said._ _

__Rodney wasn't paying attention. “Do you know what Woolsey said when I told him how low the likelihood of anything happening was? He told me that I should consider this a vacation. A _vacation_ , being stuck in the middle of nowhere, where the internet runs on a 16 bit modem, and the bed and breakfast doesn't even have TV in the rooms._ _

__John would be offended, except those had been his feelings when he was first sent here. Instead, in a show of solidarity, he slapped McKay on the back._ _

__“Cheer up, McKay. You can watch TV at my place.”_ _

__“Oh god. You're coming onto me, aren't you.” He sounded oddly resigned about the prospect._ _

__“No! Jesus, McKay. You try to be nice to a guy.”_ _

__“John has invited us all to dinner tonight,” Teyla explained._ _

__“John?” McKay said._ _

__“That would be me. John Sheppard.”_ _

__“Yes, thank you, I know. I just didn't realize you'd all become so chummy during the _15_ minutes I turned my back on you.”_ _

__John pouted. “Don't be jealous, Rodney. You can be my chum too.”_ _

__Rodney actually looked taken aback. He probably was as crappy at making friends as John was._ _

__“That's not a completely terrible prospect,” he said._ _

__“Great. Dinner at my place at seven. You can't miss it. You just follow the road until it stops, and that's where I live.”_ _

__“Where are you going?”_ _

__“Home. I've been at work since 6. Apparently there were some FBI bigwigs who'd visit us during the day, and I needed to make sure they'd have access to everything they needed. Don't worry though; Lorne and Cadman will take good care of you.”_ _

__One cheerful wave, and he was out the door, trying hard to suppress his urge whistle jauntily. It looked like it would be a perfect night to fire up the grill, but first he had some shopping to do._ _

__~*~_ _

__“So,” Dex said once Sheppard was gone, “what did you tell him, McKay?”_ _

__Rodney sighed. He should have known the yeti wouldn't be able to leave well enough alone. “Not much. Just that we know who're behind the murder, why, and that it's out of his jurisdiction. The rest he figured out for himself.”  
“How?” Dex asked. For someone who had a reputation for being the strong and silent type, he certainly asked a lot of irritating questions._ _

__“He didn't say, but it was probably your hair. I told you no federal agent would have hair like that.”_ _

__“Really.” Ronon grinned at him. “You're sure it's not something you said?”_ _

__“Yes.” Rodney gave him his best glare, but it seemed like, unlike his minions, Ronon was immune to it._ _

__“Is there anything left for us to do here?” he asked instead, trying to regain control of the situation, although it felt like that had been slipping since they first arrived in this podunk town. Rodney blamed Sheppard; that man was a terrible influence on Dex and Emmagan._ _

__“Nothing that is not better performed in the privacy of our rooms,” Emmagan said._ _

__“Right. So we're just gonna leave this place completely unsupervised? Seems unsafe.”_ _

__“I'm sure Deputy Lorne and Constable Cadman will be back soon,” Emmagan said._ _

__“Maybe there's a key hanging by the door,” Rodney mused. It seemed like the sort of thing that happened in places like this._ _

__“I think I will write them a note instead.” She took a stack of heart-shaped pink post-its from Cadman's desk, and wrote a short note in her flowing and pretty handwriting. If Rodney hadn't known that she'd only learned to write as an adult, he would never have guessed. Her penmanship was better than everyone else he'd worked with._ _

__Dex' handwriting wasn't bad either, although Rodney had noticed he seemed to shape his letters one by one. Come to think of it, that was a bit odd, wasn't it?_ _

__“Hey, Dex, how come your handwriting is so different from hers? Didn't you two learn at the same time?”_ _

__Emmagan looked at him strangely. “Sateda already had a written language.”_ _

__Rodney felt like he'd lost a step somewhere along the line. “Sateda?” Wasn't his name Ronon?_ _

__“My home planet,” Ronon said. “We had a written language. Didn't look like yours though. Miko told me it was more similar to Chinese. “_ _

__“Oh, I thought-” Rodney felt a bit sheepish. It was a new feeling, and he didn't like it one bit._ _

__“You assumed I was Athosian. Seemed pointless to tell you differently.” Ronon's shrug spoke volumes._ _

__Rodney looked at the two of them – really looked – for the first time. Now that he was paying attention, it seemed kind of obvious that they were from different cultures. There was the way they spoke, and the way they wore their hair, and even though they were dressed like FBI agents right now, they usually wore quite different clothing. Both used homespun fabrics, but Dex's clothes tended to feature visible seams and earth colors, and Emmagan's were more finely stitched with a more vibrant palette. And then there was the jewellry. Now that he gave it some thought he realized that he'd never seen Emmagan hang any Wraith bones around her neck._ _

___Oh_._ _

__“It shouldn't though,” Rodney said. “It shouldn't be pointless. It's important to you and it should be important to me too. And I'm sorry. For not paying attention to you.”_ _

__“Thank you, Rodney.” She inclined her head. A sign of respect amongst the Athosians, that much he knew._ _

__“Thank you, Teyla.” Rodney felt quite shy all of a sudden. He hoped she hadn't taken offence. She'd called him Rodney, that meant he could use her given name, surely? The warm smile she bestowed on him made his doubts disappear, and he felt quite relieved. And happy, strangely enough._ _

__“Thanks.” Ronon's hand came down on his shoulder like a ton of bricks._ _

__Awkwardly, Rodney reached up to pat his shoulder in return. “Thanks, Ronon.”_ _

__As the three of them headed across the street to their lodgings, Rodney pondered the strangeness of him ending up on first-name basis with three people in one day when he'd spent years working at the SGC and on Atlantis and barely learned the last name of some of the people he worked with every day._ _

__For the first time, he felt like maybe he should have made more of an effort to socialize. He thought of Teyla and Ronon and John, and decided that although it was much too late to befriend Dr Zelenka, at least there was still time to make an effort for these people._ _

__Suddenly, a thought struck him.“Do you think we should bring a gift for Sheppard?” He asked. “It's one of those customary things.”_ _

__Teyla smiled approvingly at him. “I believe a bottle of wine would be appropriate.”_ _

__“I'll pop over to the store and buy one. They close at four. He threw his room key at Ronon._ _

__“Take my room, it's largest. I'll be right back.”_ _

__~*~_ _

__McKay's room was larger than both his and Teyla's. Ronon had every intention to tease him about that once he came back from the store, but for now he was content flopping down on McKay's bed in an uncordinated heap._ _

__The only drawback was that Ronon could practically feel Teyla's curious eyes burning a hole in his neck._ _

__“What,” he growled into the comforter._ _

__“You seem quite fond of John Sheppard,” she said, her voice light and teasing._ _

__He mumbled something indeciperable._ _

__“I approve. He's a good man.”  
Her soft steps were coming closer, until he could sense her standing next to him. He didn't tense, because he didn't want to give her the satisfaction._ _

__“He's also quite attractive,” she said, poking him in the ribs._ _

__Ronon flipped over and glared at her. “Could say the same about Deputy Lorne.”_ _

__“Evan is very charming,” Teyla allowed._ _

__Ronon let his raised eyebrow do the talking for him._ _

__“Yes,” she allowed, “I enjoy his company. He is an artist, and it was very enlightening hearing his perspective on this settlement._ _

__“Whatever,” Ronon said. Teyla could play coy all she wanted, but Ronon recognized her flirting for what it was._ _

__Teyla sat down next to him on the bed. “Do you think it is wise to act on your attraction to John? We only have one day left here.”_ _

__“Doesn't seem to be a problem here,” Ronon said._ _

__“No, but I have not known it to be your way.”_ _

__“Might be worth it this time.”_ _

__“If you're certain,” Teyla said._ _

__~*~_ _

__John felt almost giddy when 7 PM approached. He'd straightened out the house – which really didn't take all that long. He might be a bachelor, but if the military hadn't given him anything else, it had instilled him with a need for neatness. Prepating the oven baked potatoes and tossing together a salad had been quick work, and the grill was standing by, the coals slowly achieving the correct temperatures._ _

__At 7PM sharp, his doorbell rang, and he got up from the sofa, brushed imaginary lint off his shirt, and herded his guests inside._ _

__“You weren't lying when you said you lived at the end of the road. How did you _find_ this place?” McKay asked. _ _

__“It belonged to the last sheriff. The man liked his privacy.”_ _

__“No kidding.”_ _

__Suddenly remembering his manners, McKay thrusted a wine bottle into his hands._ _

__“This is for you.”_ _

__“Wow, thanks, you guys.” John forced a smile, feeling grateful that he'd learned how to fake social niceties from a very young age._ _

__This was one of those situations that made John a bit uncomfortable. He didn't drink any more, for obvious reasons, but he didn't like having to talk about his past, and not opening the bottle would seem rude if it just went unexplained. He hoped the others drank wine, otherwise it would be really obvious._ _

__“You have a lovely home,” Teyla told him._ _

__“Thanks. I've pretty much left it as it was when I got it. Just bought new furniture.”_ _

__“It's nice,” Rodney agreed. “Very … rustic.”_ _

__John broke out into a genuine grin. “Now, why don't I think you're being completely honest with me, Rodney?”_ _

__“Fine, you've got me.” He rolled his eyes. “I'm sorry, but the lack of wifi alone puts me in mind of Overlook Hotel.”_ _

__“You say the sweetest thing, McKay.”_ _

__Ronon didn't say much. Just nodded at him when he came in, and smiled with him when he needled Rodney. He was obviously not a man fond of small talk, and that _really_ wasn't a problem with John. _ _

__“It's a good thing you brought wine, because I completely forgot to buy anything stronger than mineral water.”_ _

__He gestured towards the kitchen with the bottle. “Give me a sec and I'll pour you a glass.”'_ _

__John didn't actually own any wine-glasses. He hoped the others wouldn't mind. Some of the people he'd known what felt like a lifetime before would turn up their noses at red wine served in regular glasses. On the other hand, those people had been assholes anyway. Ronon and Rodney didn't look like wine men, and Teyla was undoubtedly to classy to put up a fuss over something so insignificant._ _

__He felt momentarily tempted to pour himself a glass and just be normal for a while, but he quashed that impulse right away. _Never again, John_ , he told himself, and plastered a smile on his face. He had no idea why this felt like such a big deal to him. Sure, he'd never actually had anyone except Lorne and Cadman over before, but he'd never felt the need to try so hard to impress _them_._ _

__He walked back to his guests. Teyla and Rodney were sitting together on the couch, and Ronon was sprawled in John's easy chair. John liked seeing them there. It was weird; he normally never felt such a strong connection to people he'd known for so little time._ _

__He left the tray, containing only three glasses, on the living room table. “Don't mind me, I'm just starting the grill.”_ _

__“I'll help,” Ronon exclaimed, and got up from the chair. He grabbed a glass on his way past the table._ _

__“I don't really need any help,” John confessed when there were out on the porch, Ronon sipping his wine consideringly. “I wouldn't mind some company though.” Was this flirting? He was a bit rusty, but he certainly hoped it came across as such._ _

__“No problem,” Ronon said. He grinned over the rim of his glass. “I'm great company.”_ _

__“You sure are,” John agreed, feeling a bit breathless. Ronon was gorgeous and completely out of his league, but if Ronon didn't mind, John was certainly not going to bring it up._ _

__They just stood together for a minute or two after that, quietly enjoying each other's company._ _

__After a while, Ronon asked him,“You ever thought you'd end up in a place like this?”_ _

__John didn't really have to think about that. “No, I didn't. I've had many other endings before moving here, you know what I mean?”_ _

__Ronon looked steadily at him. “Yes.”_ _

__“I figured. You seem like someone who's seen a lot.”_ _

__Ronon looked surprised. “Perceptive.”_ _

__John took the opportunity to turn over the steaks while he talked. “Nah. Like calls to like, maybe?”_ _

__“Maybe,” Ronon agreed._ _

__John felt like they were really getting somewhere here, but he and Ronon couldn't stay out on the porch all night, and it would be awkward to bring it up with Teyla and Rodney listening, so..._ _

___So_ , he really had to man up and actually be forward for once._ _

__“Do you want to stay when the others leave tonight?” He gritted out. “Nothing has to happen,” he assured him, not that he seriously thought that someone like Ronon, whose muscles appeared to have muscles, would worry that John would force his way with him, “but I'd like to see if something _could_ happen.”_ _

__“Sounds good,” Ronon said._ _

__“Good,” John said, relieved, and it was._ _

__“Looks like the steaks are done now,” Ronon observed._ _

__“They are. You go fetch Rodney and Teyla, I'll bring the steaks to the kitchen.”_ _

__John had considered setting a table outside, but it was still a bit too early in spring for it to be wholly comfortable. And his kitchen was actually pretty perfect for small dinner parties like this, since it had space enough to be comfortable for everyone while still being homey. It was probably all that wood panelling that did it._ _

__The real estate agent had stressed how easy it would be to get rid of it, but truth be told, John liked it. It was a dated look, but he'd had enough of tasteful white décor when he was growing up. This looked like a _home_ , and John hadn't even realized how badly he'd been needing one after Afghanistan and Vegas._ _

__“Ooh, steaks!” was McKay's enthusiastic greeting when John walked through the door carrying their dinner._ _

__“Glad you approve,” he said._ _

__McKay plopped himself down in a chair, not releasing the plate with his eyes. “When you said that you'd fire up the grill, I had hopes, but then I remembered that some people like to grill _fish_.”_ _

__“Heathens,” John agreed._ _

__He put the plate on the table. “Help yourself. I'm just gonna get the potatoes.”_ _

__The potatoes looked perfectly cooked, and John felt pretty pleased with himself. He put them down on the table, with more ooh-ing from McKay, and an approving look from Ronon._ _

__“Wow, you'd think no one had fed you guys for ages,” he teased. “Have you really been so poorly treated today?”_ _

__“Lunch was great,” Rodney hastened to say. “ But I've been living on nothing but military food for _months_. Those wounds will never heal.”_ _

__John paused in spooning up salad on his plate. “So you guys are military.”_ _

__Rodney gave him a deer-in-headlights look. Ronon simply looked amused, and Teyla looked resigned as she explained._ _

__“We sometimes work with the United States military, yes.” She said. Looking at Rodney, she added, “Rodney more often than Ronon and myself.”_ _

__“Fair enough.” He smiled reassuringly at Teyla. “I already know you're not FBI. I don't think anything you say can surprise me at this point.”_ _

__Rodney coughed, quite loudly. “Sorry, water went down the wrong pipe,” he said, looking sheepish._ _

__“You and Ronon aren't military then?”_ _

__Teyla looked a little caught of guard at the question. “No. What made you think that?”_ _

__“The way you carry yourself, mostly. When I first saw you, I figured Ronon had to be Special Forces. I was less sure about you, but the more I watched you, the more it made sense.”_ _

__“You are quite perceptive, John,” Teyla said. “Ronon and I are not formally part of the military, but we have been, of sorts.”_ _

__“Now you're making me really curious,” he said._ _

__“I thought I could no longer surprise you.” Teyla said._ _

__John toasted her with his mineral water. “Touché.”_ _

__“These potatoes are great.” Ronon interposed._ _

__“Thanks,” John said. “Easy to make too, as long as you don't mind peeling the little bastards.”_ _

__“ _Easy_ ,” Rodney said, looking like the potatoes had personally betrayed him. “Every time I pick up a potato peeler, I literally lose a little piece of myself.”_ _

__“That is disgusting, McKay.”_ _

__“I know.”_ _

__Teyla smiled self-conciously. “I must confess the same thing sometimes happens to me as well. Cooking is an artform not all of us have mastered.”_ _

__“That's okay,” John said. “You guys can just focus on eating.”_ _

__He turned to Ronon. “What about you. Do you cook?”_ _

__“Only for survival.”_ _

__“Camping, got it. Well, if I ever need help heating a can of beans, you'll be the first guy I'll call.”_ _

__“Can't shoot cans of beans.” Ronon said. He looked pretty amused by the idea._ _

__“Ah, hunting.” John scratched his cheek. “Been a while since I did that. Not really my thing.”_ _

__“I went hunting once,” Rodney chimed in. “It was a collossal waste of time. I think the only thing we killed were about a million mosquitoes.”_ _

__“Really. I didn't take you for a hunter, McKay.”_ _

__“I was a fourteen. It was supposed to _build character_ , can you imagine?”_ _

__~*~_ _

__Ronon had enjoyed dinner. Sheppard was pretty good cook, and he made food that actually filled you up, none of those cutesy little dishes he sometimes saw cooks make on TV. He'd even bought brownies to have with their coffee._ _

__They'd mostly talked about work. John had asked what they would be doing tomorrow, and McKay had said that they'd probably mostly work from their hotel since they needed privacy. Sheppard had offered them their conference room instead, which they had accepted gratefully. It got cramped, working three people from one bedroom._ _

__Finally, Rodney and Teyla were on their way. Rodney had looked surprised that Ronon was staying behind, but Teyla ushered him out of the door before he could say anything._ _

__And then it was just him and John, smiling stupidly at each other._ _

__“I'm glad you stayed,” John said, smiling a little crookedly, and then they were kissing. Sheppard just looked so irresistible, looking up at him green-eyed and tempting, and leaning down to finally get a taste of him was just the work of a moment._ _

__Sheppard's mouth opened for his like he was hungry for it. That was good, because Ronon was hungry too. The people at the SGC never really let him forget that he was a stranger among them, and it had been too long since he last touched anyone in this way._ _

__His hands caressed Sheppard's side as they slowly glided down to settle at his hips. He'd noticed his lean body from the start, had wanted to touch him in this manner since he saw his shirt ride up to give him a tempting glimpse of smooth skin when he was leaning over Lorne's desk._ _

__Sheppard was gripping Ronon's waist. Ronon hoped he'd leave bruises. No matter what, he would have to leave in a day, but he wanted the memories of this night to linger._ _

__One of John's hand was starting wander, grabbing at Ronon's ass and eventually making its way to his crotch._ _

__“I could get off like this,” John murmured against his neck, and Ronon had to agree. Getting off like this, right in John's living room, sounded like an excellent idea._ _

__He thrust his dick against John's hand to show his appreciation, and John moaned, “fuck, that is so hot,” and his other hand movef to work on getting Ronon's pants open._ _

__When Ronon could finally feel John's hand directly on his cock, they both moaned, and John surged up to kiss him. Ronon was inefficiently working on the zipper of John's jeans, but John's rythmic milking of his cock was too distracting to do much of anything except kiss him back, and let John work him. He saw spots dance in front of his eyes as he came, spurting all over John's hand._ _

__John was looking a little wide-eyed and a lot turned on, and with a growl Ronon wrestled him down on the couch._ _

__Laughing and breathless, John let him push him down onto the pillows, and, seeming to know what Ronon wanted, he let him look his fill, his lust-darkened eyes the only things (not counting his cock) that betrayed how turned on he was._ _

__Smiling, Ronon pushed up his shirt, leaving John's stomach bare. He was pretty hairy, not that Ronon minded. He liked the contrast between the dark hair and Sheppard's flushed skin. He kissed him, tasting clean sweat, feeling soft skin and coarser hair against his lips. Slowly, his mouth travelled downwards. John's hands were in his hair, urging him on, but Ronon wouldn't let himself be hurried. Some things were meant to be savioured._ _

__The top button of Sheppard's jeans was open, and Ronon enjoyed making a show out of pulling down the zipper. John was wearing underwear, more's the pity, but Ronon pushed them down to his thighs together with the jeans._ _

__His dick was pretty big for a skinny guy, and for a while Ronon just enjoyed jacking him off, not really able to decide what he liked best; watching his cock as his hand worked it, or watching John's face._ _

__There was something about seeing a man in that vulnerable state that really turned him on, but it wasn't enough; he wanted to see John come completely undone._ _

__Abandoning his view, he bent down and gently took one of John's balls in his mouth. John made a sound like he was dying, and, experimentally, Ronon tried sucking on it, his hand still rythmically jacking John's cock._ _

__That was enough. With a shudder and a muffled moan, John came. He looked like a mess, with mussed hair and kiss-swollen lips, his shirt rucked up, and his stomach splattered with his come._ _

__Ronon wanted to find a bed and mess him up even more._ _

__“I think you killed me.” John said. He'd thrown an arm over his face, but his just-got-fucked smile betrayed him._ _

__“Wanna go again?” Ronon said eagerly._ _

__John let his arm fall down at his side._ _

__“Holy shit,” he said admiringly, “you're _insatiable_.”_ _

__Ronon grinned up at him._ _

__“Please, have mercy with an old man. Give me half an hour, and we'll see.”_ _

__“You're not that old,” Ronon said._ _

__“I'm older than you,” John said, sounding mild. “Trust me, it makes a difference.”_ _

__He patted Ronon's head. “Here, help me up.”_ _

__Ronon pushed himself up from his kneeling position on the floor. He grabbed John's hand and pulled him up until they were both standing, pressed close together, hands still intertwined._ _

__“You know,” John said. “I do have a bed.”_ _

__“Oh yeah?”_ _

__“Yeah.” He gave Ronon a sultry look, “and condoms, if you're interested.”_ _

__“I'm interested,” Ronon said, thinking about John's bed and John's condoms, and what they meant in conjunction with John._ _

__“That's good. My bedroom is over there. Why don't you go make yourself comfortable. I just need to grab a glass of water.”_ _

__~*~_ _

__Ronon loped off to the bedroom. John watched him go, hardly believing his own good fortune. He pulled off his pants, because they were still tangled around his knees, and he didn't really feel like falling on his head. That would be a very embarrassing trip to the doctor's office._ _

___He locked the front door, and walked to the kitchen. He hadn't lied about being thirsty. He gulped down some water while idly thinking of the hot – and hopefully naked – man who was currently in his bedrooom. This day had really not ended the way he'd expected when he got up in the morning._  
¨  
He walked to the bedroom, wearing nothing but his shirt, feeling a little silly but mostly just expectant. 

__Ronon was stretched out on the bed. He was indeed naked, and judging by his cock he was ready for round two already. John would need a while to get there, but that was no reason to neglect Ronon's cock, now was there?_ _

__“Want company?” John asked._ _

__“What do you think?” Ronon gestured, indicating his naked body sprawled over John's bed. The man had a point._ _

__John unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt and pulled it over his head before throwing it in a heap on the floor. It needed laundering any way._ _

__Rummaging through his bedside table, he asked Ronon, “just so we're clear, you are going to fuck me, right?”_ _

__“Yeah.”_ _

__“Good.”_ _

__He threw the condom and lube in Ronon's direction, and then he climbed onto the bed and straddled Ronon's lap. The hard cock poking at his ass was a nice reminder of what was to come, and the view was _spectacular_. Ronon was really something; like a Greek sculture, except, thankfully, without the micro-dick._ _

__Judging by the way Ronon was looking at him, he also seemed to be enjoying his view, which was a nice ego boost._ _

__“I want to suck you,” he said._ _

__John was a little surprised, but he was certainly not going to complain. He leaned over to the bedside table and fished out another condom. Ronon looked a little disappointed._ _

__“Safety first,” John said. It was always weird treading a condom on a soft dick, but giving himself a couple of nice and long pulls was enough to make him half-hard. It was a start at least._ _

__“Like this?” he asked, and at Ronon's nod, he scooted forward until he was bracketing Ronon's head with his knees._ _

__It took some concentration on his part not to just rest all his weight on Ronon's chest, but the view was worth it._ _

__Ronon had to use his hand a little at first, holding John's cock up to his mouth like an uncooperative lolly-pop, but after a couple of minutes of sucking and licking and tounging the head, John was fully hard in his mouth._ _

__He pulled back, and said, sounding breathless, “you can fuck my mouth if you want to.”_ _

__John definitely wanted to. He grabbed the headboard for support, and with controlled movements, he thrusted into Ronon's mouth, doing his best not to cut off his air supply. As far as John was concerned, that's not really the kind of thing you do to someone without carefully negotiating first._ _

__John had already come once, and no matter what Ronon said he really wasn't all that young any more, so even with his dick pumping in and out of Ronon's hot mouth, it took several minutes before he came._ _

__He pulled out carefully, and flopped down next to Ronon._ _

__“I hope you don't expect me to _ride_ you after that little performance,” he panted._ _

__“No worries, old man.” Ronon rasped at him, and John could practically feel his poor overstimulated dick try to sit up and take notice._ _

__“Want me to turn over?” John asked._ _

__“This is fine,” Ronon said and moved away from the middle of the bed. “Just scoot up closer to the headboard-”_ _

__“- yeah, that's good.”_ _

__Satisfied, he knelt down between John's legs, and pushed a pillow under his ass. “This will work,” he said happily, and pushed John's legs against his chest until he felt a bit like a pretzel, hold the salt._ _

__Any complaints John might have had with the manhandling were completely derailed when Ronon's big fingers started stroking down his perineum. It was such a gradual change that John barely even noticed when he moved on from that to massaging his hole, gently working him open. John had experienced his fair share of quick and dirty bathroom fucks, but they weren't half as addicting as getting to luxuriate in Ronon taking his time with him._ _

__He felt kind of floaty, and when Ronon finally was ready to fuck him, the initial thrust was smooth, hardly any friction at all._ _

__At that point, Ronon was clearly done with taking it slow, because he quickly started fucking into John at such a pace that he had to grab onto the headboard not to hit his head on the wall with every thrust._ _

__John still wasn't complaining, because watching Ronon blindly chasing his own pleasure like that was really hot, and even though he wouldn't get hard again tonight without the help of some kind of intricate pulley-system, Ronon's dick powering past his prostate was given him little electric sparks of pleasure. And, oh, _fuck_ he was going to feel this tomorrow. _ _

__Ronon finally came with a bitten-off shout, and John honestly couldn't say if he was relieved or disappointed._ _

__Getting to lie next to Ronon and fall asleep to the sound of his deep and even breathing was pretty great though. The only thing that soured the experience was the knowledge that it would never happen again._ _

__~*~_ _

__In the morning, John made them breakfast and drove Ronon to the Sheriff's office. He would have liked being able to stay, but he knew he couldn't. He was scheduled for meetings at the Mayor's office all day._ _

__“I don't think I'll be able to see you before you leave, but it's been great,” he told them._ _

__He shook hands with McKay, and Teyla did a weird head-tilty thing with him. Ronon enveloped him in a bear-hug, which was both very Ronon and very welcome, becaue otherwise John would have chickened out and just offered him a handshake._ _

__“I'll see you guys around,” he said, not actually believing for a second that he'd see anyone of them ever again. He was pretty sure Ronon was pretty eager to see him again, but one one-night stand, no matter how fantastic, did not make for the start of a successful long-distance relationship._ _

__As he was preparing to leave, there were a lot of significant glances being thrown around by Teyla, Ronon and Rodney. John had no idea what that was about._ _

__And then, just as he was about to walk out the door, Ronon said, “catch,” and John reflexively grabbed at the rock (?) that was being thrown at him._ _

__Then there was light. A lot of light, making John's eyes hurt a little, so he thought, “stop,” and the lights went off._ _

__Once his eyes had adjusted, he noticed that Ronon, Rodney and Teyla were all staring at him like he was every one of their Christmases rolled into one._ _

__“What the fuck was that,” he asked, feeling completely dazed. His first thought that it was some kind of flash grenade, but then why the hell was Ronon throwing grenades at him? John refused to believe he was _that_ bad in bed._ _

__“I really can't believe it,” Rodney said. “Do you realize what this means?”_ _

__Annoyed, John said, “Apart from Ronon having a mean sense of humor? I don't, actually.”_ _

__Ronon had the good grace to look a little sheepish._ _

__“We are sorry, John,” Teyla chimed in, “but we did not know it would do that.”_ _

__“Rodney said it was a compass.” Ronon glared at him._ _

__“I said I thought it might be a compass,” Rodney said. “How was I to know it was apparently some kind of light-bulb on stereoids.”'_ _

__“Okay,” John said, fixing them all with a stare. I have actually do have to go to the Mayor's office. If you're still here when I get back, I want an explanation. Capisce?”_ _

__“What? You're not going anywhere.” Rodney looked aghast. “You're coming with us to Colorado. Woolsey needs to brief you so you can join the program.”_ _

___'Colorado'? 'Program'_? “I'm not joining your cult, McKay.”_ _

__Rodney pinched his nose, looking pained. “Oh, for fuck's sake.”_ _

__“Fine,” he finally said. “Fine!”_ _

__“You go to your little meeting with the mayor, and when you get back, we'll be here, and so will our boss be. You will listen to what we have to say, and then you'll do the rational thing and agree to go with us, because this is literally the greatest opportunity of your life, Sheppard. _Do you get that_?”_ _

__John sighed. “Look, McKay, all I get is that you threw some kind of stun grenade at me, and now you want me to leave my job for something so secret you're not allowed to even hint at what it is. Excuse me if I'm not chomping at the bit for the opportunity to throw my whole life away.”_ _

__He looked at his watch. “Shit, and now I really have to run. If you guys are for real, I'll see you later.”_ _

__It was all mad, of course. Everything suggested that the three of them would be long gone when John returned to the office. But the thing was, despite was logic was telling him, John was pretty sure he _would_ see them later._ _

__END_ _


End file.
